stuff

 How it all disappears into a small 

open boat I will never know.

Pathfinders on rough waters (Lorenzo really loves his coffee)

I came across this photograph the other day and really loved it.  I suspected it was friends Enrico and Lorenzo sailing their Pathfinders on the Mediterranean.  I wrote to confirm this with Enrico, his reply is below.

If anyone wonders about the seakeeping ability of the Pathfinder yawl, the photograph should answer your questions.

From Enrico:  

Yes, it's Lorenzo (on Astrid, right) and my wife Silvia and I (on Isfuglen, left). Last day of MIRAVAR 2024, rounding Cap Benat, Hyeres archipelago, south France. Only 4 boats of the fleet decided to go, while the other 7 boats decided to stay more sheltered. The wind was not exceptional (I estimate 20kn) but the waves were quite impressive, built by the wind that was blowing non stop for 2 days and 2 nights. We sailed downwind all the time, which simplified the situation a lot. Get this: while Silvia and I were managing to survive, Lorenzo (single sailing) was able to prepare a coffee in his moka coffee maker..  What a seadog! :-)

You can read about that day, plus the entire sailing raid, at Enrico's blog here.  It is also worth visiting Lorenzo's blogs, one about sailing his Pathfinder ASTRID, another about the MIRAVAR sailing raid (which Lorenzo has organized for many years) and a third blog about NEWYD MARINE, Lorenzo's business that specializes in CNC kits for John Welsford-designed sailboats.  If you live in Europe and want to build a Pathfinder, he is the guy to talk to.

Thanks, Enrico and Lorenzo, for showing what a Pathfinder can do!

tracking URL

 Here is the link to the tracking url, or just copy and past the link below.

https://maps.findmespot.com/s/PBB9

Had hoped to be sailing on Friday, instead I will be waiting for a new main sail to arrive.  If I get the sail by Friday, I'll rig it Saturday, and be on the road Sunday.  Hope to be on the water on Monday.

sailing MARIAH

It was an invitation I could not refuse.  I had texted Harris to ask where he kept his Arey's Pond custom built Caracal MARIAH.  I told him I just wanted to know where it was so I could just go stand on the dock and take a look.  Instead, he told me to meet him at his house, we'll go sailing.  How very nice!

I have long been a fan of catboats.  The Marshall catboats, Mengers and Arey's Pond boats have always caught my eye.  The single-masted gaff-rigged boats in the 18 and 19 foot range seemed like they would be perfect for cruising.  If I ever get a boat with a cabin, it might well be a catboat.

The Caracal, a recent design (MARIAH is hull #4), seems like the perfect mix of traditional design (cold molded hull) and some high-tech features (carbon fiber mast) built by true craftsmen.  It is a beautiful boat, as are all the Arey's Pond designs.  Yes, well out of my price range, but I can still admire them, can't I??

I admit I did not know Harris very well.  We had crossed paths a couple of times over the years, once in St. Michaels and then just a couple of years ago at the Downrigging Festival in Chestertown.  When I heard he was having a Caracal built, I sent him a note asking about modifications he was making to the design.  The list he sent me was like he was reading my mind.  An extended cabin, extra port hole up forward, slightly deeper cockpit and auxiliary diesel, just to mention a few.  With a stove on board, and two bunks, it will be perfect for a little cruising.

The fact that I had met Harris just briefly over the years did not stop him treating me like an old friend.  I had received several invitations to group sails he often organized in the fall on the James River.  I suspect he knew that I was not much for group outings, but the invitations kept coming anyway.  Plus through small boats, we had a ton of friends in common.  It was almost like we knew each other already.

The wind was light as we started our five or so hours on the water.  It gave us plenty of time to talk about MARIAH and his life-long experiences with catboats - he had sailed on a classic Fenwick Williams catboat since he was a child, eventually cruising on it with his own family.  So MARIAH was a return to his life-long love affair with catboats.  

 

After lunch at a waterfront restaurant, we headed back up the James.  A very nice breeze filled in from the north giving us a beam reach back to his marina.  Big gaff-rigged main filled with wind, MARIAH heeled nicely as she held a true course up the river against the tide.  It was just a wonderful day.  A beautiful boat, great lunch and an enjoyable conversation with Harris.

Thanks, Harris, for a great sail on a beautiful catboat.  Congratulations on MARIAH.  Enjoy!

a plan for Maine

 Everybody has a plan

till they get punched in the mouth.*

--------------------------------------

I've been thinking about my plan for sailing Maine in August.  As usual, I will put in at Atlantic Boat Company in Brooklin.  Last year I headed east to Rocque Island, one of the prettiest islands I have ever visited in a small boat.  This year I think I will head west to Casco Bay.

From the charts and google earth, there is basically a series of fingers of land separated by rivers and bays.  There are several towns along the way such as BoothBay, Bristol and Harpswell (where I have some friends), plus countless small fishing communities, islands and anchorages.  Sounds pretty nice, doesn't it?

The long granite fingers of Harpswell lead right to the islands spread out over Casco Bay.  The Pilgrim and I did some hiking on these islands last year.  This year I would like to visit them in SPARTINA.  How about an lobster roll on Peaks Island just off of Portland?

From there I will turn back east towards Penobscot Bay, Deer Isle, Merchants Row and all those great little islands.  Time permitting, I might go as far east as Rocque Island.  There's my track below from circumnavigating the island last year, and I would enjoy doing it again this year.  Just have to see how the time goes.

Looking at my log from last year, it was about 12 days from Brooklin to Rocque Island and back.  That included three weather days,  a morning of thunderstorms and then a wall of fog that kept me tracked in Birch Harbor, then two days at Great Wass Island waiting out the remnants of a hurricane coming up the coast.  And then a day circumnavigating Rocque Island.  

So will definitely head towards Casco, and then see how the weather treats us.  

*words of wisdom from philosopher / pugilist Mike Tyson

a dog's life

Here is a fun video from friend Matt as he took his wife and their dog for three days of camper cruising on his Pathfinder TRIM.  The photos are all screen shots for the video, which was made while sailing on the Miles and Wye Rivers near St. Michaels.  I knew the Pathfinder was comfortable for two people.  But a dog too?  How nice!

 

so AI tells me what I don't want to know...

Reading the NYTimes yesterday I saw the ad below several times.  I knew the woman was an actress, but could not quite place her.  I figured there is probably an website that could a reverse image search and tell me her name.  I found a website and  imported her image.  The site quickly told me it is Tilda Swinton.

Being curious, I imported my own image into the AI powered site and did a search.  I guess the lesson here is don't ask unless you really want to know.....

 

day twenty-three - back to the ramp

Up before dawn.  Stow the sleeping gear, break down the boom tent.  Gusts were so strong yesterday evening the anchor, ten feet of chain, the five pound mushroom anchor and a couple of feet of line were buried in the soft mud.

Under power at 6:00, glassy calm water.  Hauled out at 7:00.  Take my time breaking down the rig.

Some days with gusty winds, others with heavy rains.  Cape Lookout, Oriental, Belhaven and Washington, some of my favorite places to visit.  I met some interesting and good people along the way, saw some old friends.  And, oh yeah, can't forget the stowaway snake.

2.15 NM

 

day twenty-two - afternoon gusts

 

Unexpected rain overnight.  Wake to an overcast and cool morning.  Cast off 6:35 with a helpful west wind.  6:45 wing and wing through the trestle.  Making 3.3 down the channel with Whichard Beach to starboard.

7:00 chilly, a bit of blue sky.  Better wind and 3.6, the sun breaks through the overcast.  8:35 Blount Bay to starboard.  Blue skies, still surprisingly cool in the shade of the main.  

Wind falls off, motor sailing at 9:00.  Enough wind to sail at 9:45.  Wind comes and goes, finally decent wind at 10:00.  Off Bath Creek, Indian Island in sight off the starboard bow.  

Wind fills in, doing 5.1.  Suddenly afternoon gusts arrive like a wall of wind, look back up the river to see nothing but chop.  Round up to tie in a reef, decide to tie in both reefs.

12:00 5.9 in the gusts.  See the ferry crossing the river ahead.  Hard to sail wing and wing in the strong winds, turn slightly to starboard so we can sail with wind over the starboard quarter.  Easier and smoother sailing.

In sight of the entrance markers to North Creek, jibe so the wind is over port quarter.  1:15 turn into North Creek.   Fall off to Back Creek, then continue north on the smaller, winding Ross Creek.

The wind is getting stronger in the afternoon.  I want to anchor up near the trees for calmer water but not sure of water depths.  Tack back and forth until I find a spot I am comfortable with.  Anchor down 2:05.

Hot and windy all afternoon.  I put on the sail covers so the sails won't be wet with the morning dew.  Set up the boom tent to get out of the sun.  Wind is howling through the trees.  Relax, clean up the boat.   It is time to go home.

24.2 NM

day twenty-one - the gift

Morning comes with a low, dark overcast.  A misting rain remains from the night's storm.  

I'm running low on packed breakfast and lunches.  Up on the nearby porch with the awning I break down a six-day package of meals into individual gallon bags.  That will last me the few remaining days of the trip.  Looking at the short term forecast, I realize the weather won't be right for sailing to Ocracoke.

Rain goes away, blue skies and suddenly it's a very comfortable morning.  I walk a couple of blocks for breakfast, then head to the dock house to do laundry.

Mid-afternoon.  I'm sitting on the porch in one of the dozen rocking chairs under an awning.  A petite elderly black woman ("elderly" meaning a year or two older than I) comes up the steps, sits down in a rocking chair at the far end of the porch.  We exchange a typically southern summer greeting:

  

"Hot today."  "Feels like summer's already here." "Nice to be in the shade." 

I go back to looking out over the river.  

After a few minutes the woman asks if the building next to the porch is a museum.  I tell her it is a visitors center, mostly brochures and such.  I mention that the only museum I know of in town is the Underground Railroad Museum a few blocks away.  She says she had noticed that museum driving in to town.

I return to looking at the river, the long bill of my ball cap tilted low over my eyes.  The water is flat and grey.  A humid mist dulls the color of the boats anchored out and the trees beyond.

The woman's voice snaps me out of my reverie.  "We ought to go there now." Caught off guard, I say "What?" "We ought to go to the museum." "You and me?" I ask. "Yes," she says.  "Right now?" "Yes."

I think for a moment, say "Okay, let's go."  I walk down the row of seats as she stands up.  "I'm Steve."  "I'm Darlene."  We shake hands.

As we walk the four blocks or so toward the museum, I tell her I'm from Virginia, visiting on a little boat.  She tells me she is visiting from a nearby town where she lives near her children and grandchildren.  I ask her if that is where she was born.  She says no.  She mentions the place where she was born and I don't catch the name, though the world "island" might be part of it.  I ask her again, she just waves arm to the west, says "on the other side of the mountains."  I wonder if she means the Smokey Mountains.

  

We get to the museum, it is in a small railroad car, only to find a hand-written note taped to the door saying it was closed for the day.  There are small windows, so we look inside to see what we can see.  An old brick building next to the museum has a mural showing a woman standing in the foreground with sunflowers nearby, and a ship out on the ocean.  Maybe Harriett Tubman, we speculate.  There are a couple of historical signs about the civil war, we walk over to read those.   Walking around the corner we find an old train depot, beautifully preserved, the train tracks long gone.

Our visit to the museum turns into an exploration of old buildings in Washington.  Behind the depot there is a large brick building with a sign for the Atlantic Coastal Line Railroad, a rail line that no longer exists. The building is now a civic center.  Darlene and I look at the old buildings, try to figure out what is original, what is new.  We stop at each historical marker, there are several, reading the text and trying to picture the old buildings as they were a hundred, maybe two hundred years ago.  I am surprised by the easy, comfortable conversation between the two of us, two complete strangers. There is something magical about it.

We cross the street to the old flour mill, now a brewery, and find more signs with maps and photographs.  Then walk down to the waterfront where we see rows and rows of pilings on the far side of the river.  No docks, no buildings, just pilings jutting out of the water.  Maybe for fish houses, maybe for the timber industry, there is no sign to explain that.  It is a pleasant stroll through town. I suspect that if someone had seen us from a distance, they might have thought us to be a couple visiting town.

After looking at the river, Darlene says we ought to go back.  We start walking back to the porch.  Halfway there, she says "I need to get a drink of water, and then I'm going home."  I tell her I enjoyed our walk. We shake hands and say goodbye.

I'm the only customer in a bar for dinner.  There are people sitting on the deck out back, I've had enough heat and sun for the day.  A burger and a beer.

Dusk, tucked away in the sleeping bag.  I think about gifts I have received from this little wooden yawl.  The wonderful sailing is a gift, I had hoped for and expected that.  The unexpected gifts, though, are the people I meet along the way.  Sometimes it is a simple,  fleeting exchange across the water.  Sometimes it is meeting someone who becomes a life-long friend.  And sometimes it is a pleasant walk through history  with a friendly, gentle woman with whom I have absolutely nothing in common.

day twenty - waiting on a train

 

Morning comes cool and dry and with an unexpected north wind.  Sail off anchor 6:05.  It is a slow drift down to the main part of Bath Creek, making 2.8 when we catch the breeze.  6:30 Plum Point to port.  6:40 away from the trees and exposed to the wind, a steady 4.4 out on the Pamlico River.

7:10 gps shows 5.0 in a puff, wind on aft of beam.  7:55 Blount Bay to port and making great time up the river.  Not another boat in sight.

8:35 Broad Creek to starboard, steady easy sailing.  Begin to pick out channel markers to Washington and see the train trestle ahead.

I am caught off guard when I see the trestle is closed.  I've sailed into Washington several times over the years and it has always been open.  In fact I had thought the trestle, old and rusty with plants growing out of the bridge structure, was no longer in use.  I call the bridge tender on channel 13.  No response.  Channel 16.  No response.  Channel 13 again.  Silence.

Checking Navionics I see a review that says the trestle could be closed for a train anytime between 7 and 10 a.m.  Just as I read this I see a train coming from the south side and crossing the bridge.  It takes just a few minutes to cross.  A man walks out of the small shack on the trestle, looks around, goes back in the shack.  A few minutes later the trestle opens.

10:15 bring the sails down to motor through the trestle.  

10:30 coming into the town docks just as a dockhand arrives in a golf cart.  He helps me tie up and then fills out a form for my two free days on the waterfront.

A nice salad for lunch, then the usual chores of cleaning up the boat.  Afternoon I sit a rocking chair on the porch at the visitors center catching up on the log.

Finally get that cold beer in what was once an old flour mill, then home to the local rowing club and now a brewery.  Dinner at Ribeye's, with so much seasoning I can barely taste the steak.  I come back to the docks to find that SPARTINA has become a topic of interest for a couple local photographers.  How nice.

Late evening, gusts out of the southwest arrive.  Bumpy at the exposed dock.  I drift off to sleep.

15.12 NM

day nineteen - not even a cold beer

Sail off anchor with a light west wind, 1.7 down winding Snode Creek, a pleasant way to begin the day.

7:20 on Goose Creek. A wind shift,  8:00 tacking up the creek, 3.3.  Cut across the shallows near Reed Hammock, on the Pamlico River at 8:30.  Lighter wind, 1.7 and motorsailing.  9:40 more wind and sailing.  9:50 better wind, 4.5 with Indian Island to port.  

10:40 under power, it seems I have the river to myself.  Inconsistent wind and coming from the wrong direction.  Sailing, motoring, sailing.  Then finally some decent wind.

Making slow tacks and working against the tide.  Getting hot.  12:35 2.8, then 3.3 for some steady tacking.  Tack across the width of the river towards Durham Creek Point.  Long, slow tack back, not making much ground, then lose the wind.  2:25 under power toward Bath Creek.  3:15 on Bath Creek with Plum Point to starboard.  Take the eastern branch of the creek, my phone telling me that the Quarterdeck Marina is open.  Sounds like a cold beer and maybe, according to their online menu, a softshell crab.

As I tie up at the little dock, I see that I am the only one there.  Not a good sign.  Walk around to the front to find the doors locked.  Too early in the season, I guess. Looking in through the windows, I can see the ice cold beer in the display cases.  Cast off and motor around the corner.

4:10 anchor down, set up the boom tent quickly to get out of the sun.

28.06 NM